Page 50 of Bound
I ease down the adjoining stairs, spying Wilfred at the recurved desk. I don’t think the old man ever fucking sleeps.
“Master Gage,” he calls, spying me. “Your accompaniment has moved outside to the sunlight.”
Nodding my thanks, I cross the marble foyer and push the glass door open onto a bright morning laden with clean blue skies and more sunlight than my pounding fucking head can handle.
I squint and slip my sunglasses on.
The change in light is instant and my head fucking cheers.
Peering around, soft voices echo from the patch of grass closest to the parking lot.
I follow the low tones past high shrubs and thick trees. Wena is the first Fae I spot. Vish at her side.
My relief is profound.
Either would be an ample companion this morning. They chatter, their faces turned toward one of the shrubs, the dense greenery blocking the final voice.
My heart picks up speed at the sweet orange and rose scent.
Wena looks up. “Captain Whitehorn,” she says, her smile light. Much lighter than it was the day before.
Vish gives me a brief bow, the motion sweeping and grand. Though I want to snarl at him to keep his bows for his lords, the quiet cast to his features stills the words on my tongue.
“Morn, Wena. Vish.” I sigh. “Amoret.”
She steps around the shrub and all thought flees my mind.
Gone is the Fae lady from the last day. In her stead, Amoret has donned a sleek summer dress in the barest pink. The thin straps leave her slim shoulders bare and the triangle cut skirts swirl about her knees and thighs. It is a human design. One that leaves her hair, in its high ponytail, like spun gold in the sun. Her eyes are even more arresting. The triple lines are softened and yet bold at one time thanks to the hue of the fabric. Fabric that is held together by a single bow on her side.
My eyes roam over her from the top of her head to the heels on her small feet.
Hunger lances through me. Hunger to undo the silly tie and let the fabric frame her under the sun’s warm rays. To lave my tongue from the slight curve of her calf to the slim line of her shoulder. My hands ache to grab her. To touch her.
The silence grows and I know I should speak. To compliment her on her beauty. Her boldness.
But there are no words.
I want to march her back inside. To strip the fabric from her and sate the need scorching my gut.
She shifts, her pretty, glossy lips turning down in a slight frown. “Captain?”
The title is like a slap. “Gage, Amoret,” I growl. “Never Captain.”
Wena and Vish exchange a glance out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t care. Something predatory waits under my skin. And I suddenly don’t want Amoret anywhere near the Fae guard.
“A word?” I manage to her.
Though her cheeks heat, she inclines her head.
I slip my hand to the small of her back, urging her deeper into the hedge rows. The smooth curve of her body makes my vision spark behind the sunglasses. If it wasn’t for them, the entire gods-damn garden would be glowing.
Under the shade of a tall black locust, I haul her around the bark and force her to face me.
My hand presses to the tree, praying for it to ground the lust and anger building. I lean down. “What are you doing?” I demand.
Her irises swirl. “What are you talking about?”
I lower my sunglasses and track my eyes over the smooth, creamy skin of her bare legs. The dress covers more than it shows, but even her bare arms are doing things to me.
